Ghosts of the Past (A Call Of Duty: Ghosts Fanfiction)

Chapter Twenty Four

I took a couple of weeks. I researched, watched, and healed up the best I could. Rorke was gone for most of the time, needed in other areas of his operation to ensure the war was off on the correct foot...his. His only order to Carter had been to make sure I didn't leave; even then I barely saw the second-in-command as he stayed occupied as well.

    I'd only caught glimpses of the chaos ensuing with Rorke's actions. He had a huge army and powerful allies across the world. It wasn't quite a world war yet, but it was headed there unless someone stopped the core power source: Rorke. The States had all of their armies involved, every branch and I imagined every special force. The war was even larger than the first one over four years prior. It made me queasy to know the sole cause of it all was within arm's reach for me. 

    With the information Rorke had given me about our history, I dug through the letters from my mother. There was no information or warning signs; I'd tried to piece together parts of different letters to try and find a hidden message. There was nothing. 

    I believed Rorke when he said my mother hadn't liked him; I had her same instincts and her intuition. My father had never really talked about Rorke as he never got close to people for caution of betrayal. There was a gray area with all of it that I didn't trust. 

    For the most part, I put off the truth-finding mission for my past. I focused on the Ghosts and how to get Logan back. I calculated being too passive was going to allow him to run all over me, while being hard-headed would only set him off. He was going to be tough to break but the sliver of hope that had come with him taking care of Riley was enough to continue to try. 

    I tried to contact Keegan multiple times with no success. I kept my eyes and ears open for more information on the burn site where Merrick and Hesh had been. Any little thing I heard I knew I would be able to use to get ahead. 

    "That stupid mutt should be about dead by now." 

    I glanced from where I was punching at a bag, using some of my free time to continue to train and gain strength. Two soldiers were walking along, chatting like their conversation wasn't at risk of being heard by their enemy.

    "I agree. Carter has stopped by in some of his free time to make sure he's taken care of. Not sure why since he's never shown that kind of care." 

    "Think it has anything to do with that prisoner?" 

    "That's Rorke's thing, but I doubt it."

    "Did you heard what Silas was saying earlier? About her?" 

    I tilted my head, trying to hear the rest of what the two were murmuring, but they were too faint as they left the small gym area. My guard raised when I heard the guard's name who had a natural hatred for myself and Riley: Silas. While I hadn't seen him, I knew he was going to be a problem eventually—with Rorke and Carter gone most of the time there was no one to put him check. 

    Grunting, I punched harshly with my right hand and then stepped away from the heavy bag. My muscles were tender with exertion. I had tacked on more movements than what I'd originally been given by my first trainers to challenge my body, and a couple of other soldiers had sparred with me on the mats.

   Flexing my cast-free hand in satisfaction, I felt the strength and flexibility returning more quickly than I'd expected. Thanks to the nurse who had looked after me before the meeting with Rorke, I was almost to full capacity and use. 

    "Is this where you've been all day?" 

    To the dark voice of Carter, I shot up from where I drank a bit of water. Sweat still beaded across my body from my workout. "What's it to you?"